Razors Cut Roses
by Phantom531
Summary: Phantom of the Opera Vs Sweeney Todd. Enough said, IMHO. Please read and review. Rather dark and violent rated M for a reason . Enjoy!
1. First Meeting

**This was done more as a dare than anything- crossing Sweeney Todd and Phantom of the Opera... They were about the same time period, about the same appeal, etc... I also tossed in an extra tidbit that everyone seemed to like, so enjoy! Oh, and if things seem a little odd, most of what I'm working with is from the original musicals, not the movies. And, in the case of Phantom, some of the original novel. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Don't forget, I love reviews! **I DON'T OWN ANYTHING

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**Razors Cut Roses**

Erik wandered the streets, drunk and disoriented. How long had it been since he had let her go? How long had it been since she left him for dead? He'd had to let her go, there was really no choice about it. The young man and Erik's idiot friend Nadir had made sure of that. If it hadn't been for their intervention, he and Christine would have been able to run away just fine. But no, her begging and crying for her lover had finally reached his dead, black heart. In his alcohol-induced haze, he imagined putting his hands around the little fop's neck and squeezing the life out of him. But he couldn't have done it in front of Christine.

The stench of dead fish and unwashed bodies assaulted his senses. Looking up, he noticed he had wandered into the docks by the Seine. He shook himself, trying to clear his head a little; if he had wandered this far, he could have wandered straight off the pier. Then it came to him- to just throw himself into the water and drown. He had always been cursed with a will to survive and he worried it would manifest itself in his subconscious as he went down, but a ripple of riptide eased his concern. He stood on the pier, staring into the dark water, willing himself to jump in.

"If you want to do it right, slit your wrists, friend," someone said behind him, in English. Erik rounded on the stranger, advancing on him mercilessly. The stranger didn't move, but he wasn't frozen in fear, the usual reaction. No, he stood there, calmly staring at Erik. Surprise made Erik stop in his own tracks. There was something wrong with this man, something that made even Erik think twice.

"The world isn't fit for men like you and me. Is it Erik?" the man asked. His voice was deep and there was a hint of an odd accent to it; certainly old London, but there was something else.

"The world isn't fit for anything at all," Erik replied, painstakingly remembering the English he had learned so many years ago. It had been a hobby back then, something to keep himself occupied with.

"I've seen you before. I noticed the mask," the man said very quietly. Erik frowned and began to move away, but the man laid a cold hand on Erik's arm. Erik grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against a nearby piling.

"_Don't touch me!_" he roared. The man didn't struggle, indeed, he didn't even blink.

"We might be able to help each other," he gasped out.

"I don't need your help!" Erik snarled, beginning to squeeze harder.

"And I don't need yours when it comes to suicide. Let go, please," the man replied calmly. Erik complied, but laid a hand on his sword hilt. The man looked completely undisturbed by the threat or the previous violence. He had a shock of white piercing through dark hair, which framed a thin, sallow face with two large, deep-set eyes. The eyes caught Erik's attention; they stared at him with unspeakable traumas reflected in them, away from the world and almost completely bereft of sanity. Erik had seen that same look in himself when he was unlucky enough to catch his own reflection.

"You're Erik. The Phantom of the Opera, yes?" the man asked. Erik took a step back and began to unsheathe his sword, but, once again, this did not seem to concern the stranger. The man smiled a grotesque grin and continued.

"I don't actually care who you are. I think we can help each other, so don't leave," he said. Erik hesitated.

"No one can help me," Erik whispered. Christine's face flashed before his eyes. He felt the sobs building up in his throat and tried to swallow them back.

"I am on a ship back to London. Paris was a stop to get supplies. Come with me to London and be my partner as I search for the man who stole my life. Meanwhile, I can help you find the woman who stole yours," the other man said very quietly. Erik looked at him sharply, but the man was in his own world and didn't notice.

"I'm Sweeney Todd, at your service," Erik's companion said, extending a hand, which Erik refused. "A month ago, I was traveling and met a young couple. The girl was quite mad and kept repeating something about _a man in a mask_." Erik felt something inside him cringe. _Christine_…

"I moved about quite a bit, for like you, I am avoiding detection. They were on their way to England, they said, but had traveled the local countryside trying to urge the girl from her hysteria," the man continued. Erik swallowed.

"And you came to find me and avenge the beauty that captured your heart?" Erik snapped mockingly. His companion shrugged.

"No, I came because I think we can help each other. I…I know what it's like to lose the woman you love to another," he said very quietly.

"I don't need help, you British snot!" Erik repeated, backing away.

"Revenge, Erik. We're both looking for it. Or would you want your wife in the hands of another, as mine has been for fifteen years?" Sweeney said, his soft voice rising. Erik froze. This man had referred to Christine as his _wife_. How much did he know? He stared distrustfully at Todd, who continued detachedly.

"She talked almost all night, to herself. She mentioned you had exchanged vows as husband and wife and she had abandoned you to save her lover. She was babbling about how you never left her and she could hear you in her head, punishing her for leaving. She obviously loves you very much," Sweeney said, speaking in a slow, soft voice. Erik recognized the tone he had used to placate Christine so often. He glared at Todd.

"And what's your story?" he snarled. Todd paused for a moment, but he did not seem surprised. He seemed to be composing himself.

"I was a barber in London. My beautiful Lucy attracted the attention of a judge who had me sent to Australia. I've been fifteen years away, but I've escaped to find my own revenge. And I need to find my daughter," Todd answered slowly, as if every word were painful. Erik still noticed that even when Todd was talking to him, he never looked at him and his eyes were always distant, haunted. The man was even more insane that he was.

"Let's face it Erik. We are both mad. But madness can be an asset, for how else would we have our revenge if sanity were to prevent us from enjoying it fully?" Sweeney said forebodingly. Erik nodded. He understood. And if this man understood madness, then there would be no better ally…or greater foe if it came to that.

"I won't trust you," he said sharply. Todd shrugged his thin shoulders.

"I'd think you foolish if you did, Erik," he replied, twirling an old, worn razor around his fingers with dexterity that even Erik found impressive. This man looked very much like he had used it as a weapon before. Maybe they could work together…


	2. London

Sweeney left Erik still contemplating this new twist of fate on the docks. He had, by chance, been lodged in the room next to Christine and her husband Raoul. He had very much wanted to go straight home after his escape, but knew that being caught would make matters worse. While he didn't know if anyone was _actively _looking for him, he couldn't take the risk.

He had met them in the lobby of the hotel. The girl's husband had gotten them a room, asking that the staff take care around his wife. At first, she seemed like a normal, if not very quiet girl. Christine was, however, completely deranged, as Sweeney found out when someone tried to talk to the girl. She mostly just muttered to herself, but all found out later she would revert to awful screams and pleas for forgiveness, although she was very quiet most of the time. Raoul had locked her in the room if he left the inn for anything. Taking pity on the child, Todd had taken to speaking to her through the walls. At first the sound of his voice through the wall drove her into a complete frenzy, but when she finally calmed enough to realize that he was merely in the next room, not the disembodied voice of her guilt, she seemed almost happy to have someone to talk to. She was never completely free, though, and always reverted to raving after a few minutes of clarity. The presence of her husband, Sweeney had noticed, seem to make matters worse. Over the course of three days, while her husband was out on errands –or wanting to escape his delirious wife, Sweeney pondered- she told him about Erik, the Phantom of the Opera and how she had left him for dead after vowing to be his wife. That she and her husband had travelled from place to place, trying to outrun the voice in her head. Finally, over the last few months, she had become nearly completely insane, with only mere moments of clear-thought. She also warned him of Erik's face, but Sweeney was sure he'd seen worse in Australia, where horrific mutilation was a way of settling scores…or a hobby. She had begged him to give Erik a message, should they meet. By that time, Sweeney was quite sure they would. He had memorized the message perfectly, but would not tell Erik just yet. Erik was going to make a good pawn for his scheme and he wanted to make sure nothing got in the way of that. He was a tad disappointed that it had only taken an hour or so of searching to find him, but he had seen madness in Erik's eyes. _Perfect_ madness, which was just what Sweeney needed.

Erik sat in the depths of the Opera House, thinking about what he had just done. He sensed Todd wasn't telling him everything, but knew the man had indeed spoken to Christine. He also now knew he had driven the girl mad. Perhaps in her madness she would understand him and come home. He wheezed a bit. His proclamation to the Persian that he was dying had turned out to be annoyingly wrong, but that didn't mean that his health was in good shape. He had apparently acquired asthma, probably because, with the Opera House deserted, there was no more warmth seeping down from above and mold, mildew and the now-pervading chill had moved in. His carefully concocted potions had warded off the worst of it, but Erik couldn't ignore that he would probably not make the year. But if she came home to him, he would live a thousand years if it would make her happy. If only…

This Todd fellow intrigued him. The man obviously wanted to be home, but had detoured into Paris. Granted, ships needed supplies, but Sweeney had been _looking_ for him. Looking for someone as mad as he to help him execute his revenge, so he said, but Erik thought there might be something Todd definitely had held back. Granted, he hadn't taken particular care to stay hidden, but then, he always had his hat drawn down and kept to the shadows. Either way, a single man in Paris was a difficult thing to find. Sweeney would have had to have started at the Opera House. _He had been waiting for him_. This enraged Erik further, both at Todd and himself for not noticing he was being tailed. Todd had given him the address he was staying at, a run-down hotel on the outskirts of the city and Erik considered hunting him down and killing him. However, the promise of somehow reconnecting with Christine and exacting his revenge upon the boy was something he would not, _could not_ pass up.

_London…they were going to London…_

* * *

London… It may have been home once, but Sweeney hated the place now. Turpin had stolen all the light and love out of it, when it had _truly_ been home. Now, the very thought of the city turned his stomach and he knew the air would stink of bad memories and broken futures. And evil. Once it had been home, but no more…now it was only a destination, a place to find his precious Lucy and Johanna and bring them away from that awful city of evil. Maybe they would go to the mountains, or maybe even America. He fingered the sharp edge on the worn razor he had bought from someone in Australia, before he'd slit the convict's throat with it. His razors, the special ones he and his wife had saved so long to buy, he would have to retrieve those, if they hadn't been sold or lost. With those, he could build a new life for them wherever he went.

Sweeney vowed to be happy with his wife and child again, even if it meant taking apart the whole world, or the life of an already damaged man. Whatever life Erik might have had, Sweeney decided coldly, had fled with the mind of that poor crazed girl. No, Erik was his pawn and his revenge meant more than Erik's measly half-life. He was sure Erik would do the same to him eventually.

Erik gathered up his meager possessions and prepared for what he forsaw as an extremely uncomfortable trip to London. Todd had somehow procured passage for the two of them on a ship to London through a sailor friend named Antony. They had apparently met before when Todd failed in his attempt to board Anthony's ship from a makeshift raft and had fallen into the sea. Anthony had pulled him to safety and hidden him on the ship; they had become something of guarded friends. Anthony reminded Erik of Raoul and it was all he could do not to strangle the boy on immature principle. Anthony was young and innocent to most of the evils of the world, but not completely blind to it. He drifted through the world with an air of near-invincibility that only came with the very young. Erik envied him the ease at which Anthony passed through the world. They hid Erik in the hold, although Anthony worried needlessly about Erik's comfort. Erik assured him that he would be fine; he had travelled in this way before. While Anthony was quite obviously afraid of him, the young man was still polite and friendly towards him and grilled him with questions on his other travels. Erik answered them with a small element of surprise, as no one except Christine had ever taken much of an interest in his past. He noticed Anthony also took the same attitude with Todd, and although Todd was certainly far cooler in his reaction to Anthony, Sweeney did seem to like the boy.

When Erik asked where Todd had gotten the money for passage, Todd answered that some things were better left unknown.

They pulled into port in London after what seemed like an eternity to Erik, who disliked sea travel, and Erik watched Todd and Anthony stand on the deck together, watching them come in. Erik wished he could stand there with them, but he knew he could not. He was a creature of the shadows and always would be. He saw Anthony glance back at him where he hid in the shadows and beckon him to come stand with them. Erik shook his head mutely and returned to the cargo hold. A neat way of tying in with the show/movie.

"Well, no place like home, is there, Mr Todd?" the boy said. Todd shrugged.

"This isn't home, Anthony. Not anymore," he murmured. Anthony frowned.

"I thought you said you were from London."

"I was from London. I do not call the place home any longer. Any more than our masked companion down there calls Paris home. Home means something to come home to and neither of us have anything." Anthony glanced back to where Erik had been standing.

"Sir, if you don't mind me saying, how long have you and Mr. Erik been friends?" he asked hesitantly.

"We're not. He's...useful," Todd replied distantly. Anthony frowned again.

"You two seem to have much in common. I thought you would be friends," he insisted. Todd shook his head slowly.

"No, we're partners. Not friends."

As they disembarked, Todd turned to look for Erik. He saw him several yards away, attempting to fend off a beggar woman.

"Oh, sir, any alms for a miserable woman?" she asked. Erik gently pushed her away.

"I'm sorry, dear woman, I have nothing to spare," he said softly. The woman stared at Erik for a moment and turned to Sweeney.

"Hullo, love! Any alms for a miserable beggar? If you like, you can have me right here on the street for it!" she announced. Todd made a face and he shoved her roughly away.

"Off with you! Get away!" he roared. The woman hesitated and took a step back towards Todd.

"Don't I know you?" she asked. Todd's face twisted in a grimace of rage and he grabbed the woman's arm and savagely threw her to the ground.

"No, you _don't_!" he growled. Anthony was watching in horror.

"Mr. Todd, she's only a little beggar woman! Please don't treat her that badly!" he exclaimed. He dropped a few coins to the pavement near the woman.

"Call the Beadle! Beadlebeadlebeadlebeadle dum dum beadlebeadlebeadle..." she began to mutter.

"Todd, she's insane, I don't think you can really fault her for her actions," Erik said.

"She's one of thousands, Mr. Todd. You can't beat them all to the ground," Anthony said. Erik silently agreed; he had lived in Persia and seen first-hand how awful poverty was. Todd shrugged.

"She and the rest of her kind are proof that this city has gone to hell in a hand-basket!" he snapped, turning away and walking down the street.

"I have some business to attend to. Alone," he said over his shoulder. Erik watched him go. He knew where he was going and almost felt a little pity for the man. Almost, but not quite. Anthony glanced at him.

"Do you..."

"I can find a place to stay, Anthony. Go find something else to do," Erik told him. He saw Anthony sag with relief_. Yes, you and everyone else._ Erik walked down the streets, looking for a place to hide for the evening. As he walked, the very same beggar woman they had encountered before ran straight into him.

"'Scuse me, sir. I be looking for the Beadle I am. Is you the Beadlebeadlebeadle," she mumbled.

"It's alright, madam," Erik murmured. He finally got a glance at the woman's face. She had once been very pretty, but something had twisted her features and years of disease and poverty had worn down her visage to near-bone.

"Do you remember your name?" he asked quietly. He felt a sudden, alien sense of sympathy. Was his Christine to end up like this woman, raving and prowling the streets for bread and coins?

"My name? Oh, my name, sir, is my name," she babbled. Erik sighed and patted the woman on her back. She looked up at him suddenly, and threw herself into his arms. Erik froze.

"Lucy!" she sobbed. Erik blinked under his mask. Lucy....

"Was your husband arrested?" he asked.

"My husband gone away! Awayawayawayaway, like a great bird, he flown away! My little Johanna bird...flown awayawayaway..." she chanted. Erik backed away from her and she waved goodbye as he walked away.


	3. Pies and Plotting

Several hours later, Erik wandered onto Fleet Street. The only good thing about London thus far had been the abundance of shadows and fog to hide in. It would have been massively inconvenient for anyone else, but Erik was not a creature of the light. He tripped over more and more beggars as he walked, finally arriving at the address Anthony and Todd had mentioned on the ship. There was a foul-smelling pie shop on the bottom floor and a drab, unoccupied flat upstairs. There was a dingy, rusted barber's pole at the second story's side-door. Erik was about to steal up the stairs when he caught sight of Todd in the window of the pie shop with a woman Erik didn't know. He tapped the window quietly. Todd was holding something up to the light, staring at it in a very odd way, and he didn't acknowledge Erik. The woman did. She let out an unlovely shriek at the sight of him. Sweeney didn't move or turn around, but motioned Erik into the shop with a wave of his hand. The woman, a small filthy looking little thing with huge eyes, backed away as he entered the shop.

"Dear Lord! And I thought _you_ were a ghost, Mr T!" she gasped. She regained her composure and wiped her hands on her stained apron.

"Another Ghost of Christmas Past?" she asked coldly.

"The Lord, nor Christmas have anything to do with me, madam," Erik said quietly. He saw a flash of smile pass her face before it corrected itself into a distrustful frown. She didn't seem too afraid of him, but careful, guarded, and somewhat worn down by life itself.

"My Lucy....no one cared! They let him...they..." Todd was muttering to himself.

"Sweeney?" Erik whispered, lowering his voice to a soft purr. Sweeney visibly stiffened turned to Erik, his eyes glazed and rolling with shock. For the first time, Erik could see what Sweeney was holding so lovingly. A razor, a beautiful razor of silver. There was a box with several more on the table near Sweeney.

"Speak to me, dear friends...tell me what to do..." Todd whispered softly to the silver.

"Tell me what they did so that I may know how messy we should make the revenge!" Erik urged softly, gently into Sweeney's ear. Todd trembled, and the visage of a revenge-obsessed madman slipped to reveal a man broken and destroyed by the world.

"She loved me...she loved me to the end and she would not succumb to Judge Turpin's advances...She loved me so much she turned him away, but somehow he lured her to his house and he...he..." Todd shook his head, refusing to continue. Erik understood. He glanced over his shoulder where the woman was standing with her arms crossed.

"She poisoned herself out of shame," she said simply. Todd shuddered violently and Erik thought for a moment the barber would burst into tears.

"My Lucy's dead!" he whispered. Mrs. Lovett shifted from foot to foot a little gave the woman a hard stare. _Oh, no, Lucy is not dead. _Mrs. Lovett was too nervous at the mention of her. The woman met his eyes and, Erik raised his head almost imperceptivity. She froze, staring at him in what seemed very close to terror, realizing he'd caught her lying. Erik shook his head slowly, agreeing to keep the secret, then bent to Sweeney.

"He _will_ pay. We will make him pay," Erik whispered into Todd's ear again. Todd bent his head to the razor once more, murmuring to it. Abruptly, he straightened and turned fully to Erik.

"He will _die_ for what he did to Lucy!" he growled. He stood there for a moment, before his eyes finally cleared and focused on Erik's mask.

"You and I shall have our revenge! This is Mrs Lovett. She will assist us," Todd said, gesturing to the woman, who gave Erik a quick smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Care for a pie, sir? I promise I'll make sure there's nothing in it that shouldn't be," she said. A glance at the counter and Erik declined. She shrugged, as if she had expected no different.

"Well, then, let's get down to business, shall we? In order to bring customers, say the judge and your bonnie lass's beau to the shop, we need to advertise a bit. There's this barber who sets up shop in the market. Mr Todd will have to upstage him first. _Quite_ the finch-bird, he is!" she said, pushing the two down at a table. Her accent and quick-talking made her nearly impossible for Erik to understand her. Todd grunted softly in agreement, the distant glaze coming to his eyes again.

"And Christine?" Erik asked. Todd ignored him, but Mrs Lovett gave him an indulgent smile with frost around the edge.

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for 'er. There ain't too many other Frenchies in town, and they'd all come to market, so a bit of asking and she'll be discovered. Later, we'll figure out how best to find your bonnie girl!" Mrs Lovett replied, patting him on the shoulder. He flinched away, glaring at her.

* * *

Sweeney felt sick to his stomach. His Lucy, his beautiful Lucy had been raped and _murdered_ by Turpin! Perhaps the judge hadn't actually administered the dose, but he was _not free from guilt_! He killed Lucy just as if he had put a pistol to her head. And Johanna was in his care! Todd thought maniacally about rushing down to the judge's house to barge in and slit the bastard's throat. But he had his razors back, the chased silver razors Mrs Lovett had kept for so long, just for him. They were _speaking_ to him, urging him to use them to exact his vengence, they sang to him so sweetly, it was almost like hearing Lucy's voice again. His resolve was strong again, and now he was determined the world would suffer with him! Starting with Erik, of course. As the man in the mask sat at the table, Sweeney further rehearsed his plan. But first _he had to find that girl_!

Mrs Lovett offered Erik a place to stay in her parlor, but he politely declined. Sleeping under the same roof with Todd wasn't something Erik felt entirely at ease with. He wandered the streets. It was merely twilight. Across the street, he saw Anthony, wandering aimlessly, lost in thought. Erik surmised he could kill the young man for practice and he wouldn't have noticed, as Anthony bumped into several people on the sidewalk and narrowly avoided a hansom cab, never seeming to notice. His face was creased in near-dispair and he never looked up from his own feet. Erik vaguely recalled the same look on Raoul's face when he and Christine had met on the roof of the Opera House- troubled and rather _disgustingly_ in love. He crossed the street and yanked the young man out of the path of another cart. Anthony's eyes finally unglazed and focused on Erik's.

"Mr. Erik, sir, I..."he stuttered, badly startled.

"Making sure you don't kill yourself, young man." Erik said as he let go of him. The sight of new love, and the pang that went with remembering it, was too much for him tonight. The boy had obviously met some pretty little strumpet and lost his heart at first sight, as Erik had when he first heard Christine's crystalline voice. He pushed the memory away. He knew that getting rid of Raoul would certainly hurt her, but he knew he could make her happy. This little trip would prove to her that he could be just like any normal man. Perhaps then he would finally earn her love.

He passed a rather large house and noticed a small blonde girl staring down at the street from her window. She reminded him a bit of a young Christine... he shook his head, he was seeing Christine in every yellow-haired girl he passed. He hadn't been without her for years, and the pain of her loss was an open, scalding wound to him. Not for the first time, he thought again of ending his own miserable life and forgetting about revenge, to let Christine move on without him. _But it's obvious she hasn't, if what Sweeney says is true_. Could he leave her insane and raving, could he leave her like that when it was _his fault_? No, he could ease both their sufferings, take her back to Paris with him. He just had to endure the pain of being without her for a little while longer- and they would both be free. That insufferable boy just simply had to die first. _First him then Sweeney_.

Yes, the task at hand, sufferings and sorrows aside; Erik wondered exactly what Sweeney was planning for him, for he was sure at this point Sweeney had a plan that involved him in ways that Erik was not going to be happy with. He was also sure that Todd would have to die once revenges were carried out. Todd being as crazy as he was, this would not be an easy task. But he had killed many men before and was sure that one more would not be a problem. Now he had to plan a countermove to Sweeney's plot.


	4. Homecoming & Contests

Todd sat at the back of his old shop. He hadn't bothered to try finding a bed or anything of such; he simply sat in a small wooden chair he had found outside. His thoughts trudged along in his head and he felt a great echoing silence of Lucy' absence.

He could still smell Lucy in the air and swore he could see her form in the dust that crept through the air. His Lucy was dead... His daughter might as well have been dead and Sweeney shuddered to think of her in the care of that monster! He didn't like Mrs Lovett's plan of waiting and gathering customers, but he admitted he needed money and a way to get to the judge...and _everyone_ came to a good barber for a shave... He sighed and imagined Lucy the way she was before he had been ripped away from her, playing with the baby on the floor, teasing him about silly things. How happy they had been! And Turpin ruined it all! Gritting his teeth he leaned his elbows on his knees and plotted his revenge. All good barbers knew how to make a perfect cut, where to trim and where to leave, or, in pulling a tooth, how to grip and what angle to tug. And Sweeney was the best. It was all in calculating where to put the scissors or razor or extractor. And Erik was a tooth he could leave alone for now, but would undoubtedly have to be pulled later.

Sweeney twirled one of his razors around his fingers. The old razor he had been carrying since Australia lay forgotten on the far table. He didn't need it anymore, now that he had his friends back. He felt an odd sense of fear. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should not be hearing the voices of these friends, but he couldn't stop listening to them. He understood that this was most likely simply insanity and trauma speaking, instead of the cool silver running like silk beneath his finger tips...but he _liked_ these voices; they comforted him now that Lucy was not there when he needed her, to hold him and kiss away the pain.

No, thinking of Lucy too much was a bad thing, as was fearing the reality of how insane he really had become-they were weakening him against the revenge he knew he had to have, for Lucy, for Johanna, and for himself. He suddenly felt old and very alone. _Tired_. How long had it been since he'd actually slept?

He thought about the girl, Erik's girl...Christine. Sweeney had actually not gotten a good look at her, as she had pulled so far into the hood of her cloak as to only show a few whisps of dark blonde hair and a flash of very pale skin. He hadn't thought to ask Erik for a description, but he knew he would recognize the boy if he saw him again.

Sweeney highly doubted her husband wanted to keep her in the city itself, but it was possible they were on the outskirts, perhaps in a small house, if the boy was noble-born as Erik had described and Sweeney had observed. Given the girl's condition, they would need a small degree of isolation. A new home buyer was surely to be the subject of some gossip in the square, particularly if that home buyer had a raving woman with him. That was providing that Christine wasn't in an asylum and her husband in hiding. He'd find out tomorrow....

* * *

"You know, love," Mrs. Lovett said as they walked, "You might have better luck blending in if you lose the mask and dress as a beggar. Most of them have deformities, so you'll…" Erik grabbed her by the elbow roughly. She yelped as he squeezed until he felt her bones shift.

"I will _never_ show my face. Was once on display and found it quite _disagreeable._ I would like very much to keep from repeating the experience, madam," he growled.

"I was just suggesting, is all! No need to get all cross!" she snarled, yanking her arm from his grasp. "And besides, you've never even let us see it, so how should I be knowing how bad it would even be? For all we know you just have a bad _sunburn_!" Erik reached for her again, but Sweeney gently pulled Mrs. Lovett back, as if gathering an angry cat.

"Stay here, Erik. Mrs. Lovett and I have business," he said simply. Erik glared at Mrs. Lovett, who stuck her tongue out at him. Erik hung back, fading into the shadows of the alleyway as they walked away, pulling the brim of his felt hat down. He was seriously considering killing the woman as well as Sweeney.

They walked into the square, Mrs Lovett rubbing her arm and sulking. The caravan was almost absurd in its flamboyancy, with a brightly painted sign reading _Signor Adolfo Pirelli- Haircutter – Barber – Toothpuller to His Royal Majesty The King of Naples! BANISH BALDNESS WITH PIRELLI'S MIRACLE ELIXIR!_

"Is that him? That's sickening!" Sweeney growled.

"Every Thursday and yes, that's him. He's an Italian, he is," Mrs. Lovett answered, "All the rage these days." Sweeney shrugged and they continued on closer to the caravan, where a small crowd was gathering. Suddenly, the sound of a drum began behind the curtain, as a young boy, maybe ten or twelve, parted the curtains.

"Ladies and gents!" he called to the crowd, "I have a miracle here! We promise you the most wondrous thing you have ever encountered in all your days on this earth! I was bald as an egg one day, ill I was! But Pirelli's Miracle Elixir fixed that right on up! As you can see here!" He whipped his hat off, revealing a mane of blonde hair. Sweeney huffed; it was fake, although no one else in the audience seemed to notice. As the boy continued on, Mrs. Lovett suddenly tugged on Sweeney's arm.

"Beadle Bamford! We should go!" she hissed in his ear. He turned to her and shook his head.

"We have business here, Mrs. Lovett. Business we _will_ conduct," he replied, nonchalantly.

"Only a penny a bottle, my friends! Marvelous rare miracle it is! You'll be prettier, handsomer, popular, and sweeter for it, sir! Come now, sir!" the boy continued, splashing a bit on his hand and rubbing it into a customer's bald head. Todd politely asked a customer if he could see his newly purchased bottle, uncorking it. The sour smell of ammonia and something oddly chemical hit him with stunning force.

"Pardon me, ma'am, what's that awful smell?" he asked loudly to Mrs. Lovett. Mrs. Lovett wrinkled her nose, obviously hit by the smell as well.

"Oh, my, did the privies back up?" she cried as loudly as she could. Todd saw the boy freeze onstage. He forced the bottle under Mrs. Lovett's nose.

"Good _heavens_! Oh Lord!" she shrieked, pushing his hand away. Back in the alley, Erik thought of shoving the whole bottle down her throat. It was a pleasant thought.

"This is piss," Todd announced, raising his bottle and taking another cursory look at the contents, "With ink in it to disguise the color." Other customers froze, almost simultaneously uncorking their own bottles and smelling. A few people actually dropped theirs and one woman vomited. The boy was backing up towards the curtains, still feebly continuing his pitch.

"Pirelli's Elixir can stimulate the growth the way…uh…it can make the roots grow like daisies…" he whimpered. The crowd descended on him, demanding their money back. The boy looked in panic towards the curtain, but Pirelli did not appear.

"Sir! Signor Pirelli!" the boy cried frantically. Finally, the curtains parted and the man who stepped out was even more absurd than his cart. He struck a pose, his blue and white dandy-suit embroidered with sequins flashing as much as possible on the drab, overcast day. Against the background of dreary London and her people, he looked like a blue-jay surrounded by brown toads. Todd suppressed a chuckle. Back in the alley, Erik laughed low in his throat. With a flourish, Pirelli produced an ornate razor and a tooth-extractor.

"I am Signor Pirelli and who dares to say my elixir is piss?" the flamboyant fop asked, his thick Italian accent rendering him nearly unintelligible. But something was wrong with his speech, Erik could plainly hear. Ubaldo Piangi back home had been Italian and sounded different from this man. This man sounded like Carlotta did when she was _trying to affect a different accent than her own_. Oh, this was interesting!

"I do!" Todd shouted, "I have opened a bottle of your "elixir" and have found that it is merely colored piss! You, sir, are a _fraud_!" The crowd gasped at his bold statement and, out of the corner of his eye, Todd noticed Bamford's attention had been grabbed. Pirelli grabbed the boy and shoved him forward.

"Pay no ear to this madman! He is merely jealous of the splendid skill of Pirelli!" the boy shouted, his voice wavering nervously. "Who is up for a shave from the best barber in all the world?"

"My name is Sweeney Todd and I have serviced no kings, no celebrities, no greater men than those among you, and _unlike some_, I have no need to distract you from my small amount of talent with pretty augmentations!" Todd continued. Mrs. Lovett crowed with laughter and the others in the crowd joined in. Erik, back in the shadows, had to admit they certainly had showman's skill. Pirelli was turning pastel-pink to go with the powder-blue of his suit.

"And what wager to you place, sir?" he asked, his voice still jolly for the crowd, but Erik could hear a cold edge to his voice even back from his vantage point. Todd took out his silver razors, holding them aloft. Erik saw something pass over Pirelli's face, something like _recognition_. It was gone so fast Erik almost dismissed it, until he noticed that now Pirelli was staring very hard at Sweeney. _Something was wrong here_. But Pirelli picked up the razors in turn, also revealing a tooth extractor in the box.

"I wager these against five pounds, Pirelli!" Todd challenged. Pirelli smiled nastily at him.

"You have a wager!" he announced with a grand gesture. "See now this man will see his folly! His failure shall be just another feather in the cap of the great Signor Pirelli!" Todd fought the urge to roll his eyes at the idiocy of it all. Pirelli ordered the young boy to bring out his chair, giving the boy a stout kick to the backside when he didn't move fast enough and a rough clout to the head when he stumbled pushing the heavy chair forward. Erik saw Mrs. Lovett flinch with sympathy and felt himself even feeling sorry for the boy; he remembered what it had been like to receive a beating for an unsatisfactory performance. Todd motioned to a few men, who brought out a chair for him.

"Who'd like a free shave?" Todd asked the audience. Several men clamoured for the chance on both sides. Once the customers were chosen, Todd and Pirelli turned to their audience.

"Beadle Bamford! What an honor to see you here! Will you do us the immense service of being our judge?" Todd asked. Beadle Bamford stepped forward, nodding his head politely to Todd and Pirelli each in turn. The boy provided basins and towels to both contenders, although he gave Pirelli the best of the two. The Beadle blew his whistle and the contest began…

As the whistle blew, Pirelli began stropping his razors with frantic strokes, where as Todd could have been conducting Mozart. Erik shook his head- Todd was _playing_ with him. As he glaced across the square, bored and restless, Erik saw someone _familiar_… Oh, yes, very familiar! That wretched boy Raoul De Chagney was walking through the marketplace with his head down and a shopping basket. He was dressed a might less nicely than he had been when Erik last saw him and he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. The boy was nearly frantic with timidity, obviously frightened of his surroundings. Erik watched him pick his way through the marketplace. _Sweeney could definitely find him later_… Erik followed him.

Sweeney's world had shrunk to include only the Beadle, his customer, and his friends. He didn't notice Pirelli giving him paranoid glances as he began to mix lather, nor did Sweeney hear Pirelli's loud, obnoxious boasts about his skill. He didn't see Mrs. Lovett clasp her hands over her bosom in anticipation or the crowd bustling with excitement. No, he felt almost alone, his personal silence broken only by the soft rasp of his razor against the leather strop. No, he would not rush, for rushing would cause error. His friend, clasped gently in his hand, would tell him when it was ready…

Erik passed effortlessly through the crowd, years of practice avoiding contact without drawing attention causing him to slide through like water. Raoul was having more trouble. He bumped aimlessly into people, startling at the slightest touch. The basket was clutched to his chest and he looked pale and drawn. As Erik followed, he carefully observed his surroundings, to make she he would remember in case he came back this way, or in case he was discovered and needed to defend himself…or in case he indeed got the chance to Kill Raoul in the streets. Oh, he would not do it now! He had to find his Christine, his beautiful girl. He was so much closer now!

Todd listened closely to his friend, so gently speaking to him in the whispers of the leather strop. He was now another step nearer to his revenge, if he could ensnare Bamford. Beating Pirelli would be a matter of pride. At a word from his friend, he lathered, shaved, and wiped down his customer's face. The beadle blew his whistle.

"The winner is Todd!" Bamford cried. The crowd erupted in cheers, startling Sweeney just a little as he came out of his trance. Recovering, he invited several ladies up to check his work, to the delight of his customer. The ladies all stroked his face, oohing and ahhing at the feel.

"Oh, so smooth!" one cried. Mrs. Lovett stepped forward.

"Smooth as a baby's arse it is!" she announced. Pirelli deflated, staring at Sweeney in shock.

"Give the good man his five pounds!" Bamford ordered Pirelli. Pirelli produced a bright pastel pink purse with outlandish beaded embroidery, plucked five pounds out of it, and jammed it into Todd's hand.

"Until we meet again, signor," he said, a hint of snarl edging his voice. Todd gave him a charming smile. The Italian ducked into his caravan, throwing the boy ahead of him. Mrs Lovett cringed as the sound of an intense beating exploded from the carriage. Sweeney paid it no mind, this was not important to his plans.

Erik slid between more people, but he noticed the crowd was tapering off as they left the city. They were now on the outskirts. This was making Erik a little uneasy, for if the crowd lightened, Raoul would have a better chance of catching him. Even worse if he decided to take a cab! He could not lose his chance to find Christine! But, finally, Raoul arrived at a little house, some way off from its neighbors, still just outside the city. Raoul unlocked the door and ducked inside. Erik took note of the area and the address. He would come back when it was dark, _his time_.

A crowd had gathered around Sweeney, asking where his shop was, did he intend to stay in London, and would he take customers on which days?

"A bloody marvel you are, Mr. Todd!" Beadle Bamford exclaimed, pushing through the crowd. Mrs. Lovett twitched nervously next to him, but Todd smiled extravagantly.

"Oh, it is an honor to be judged by the wonderful Beadle Bamford! I've just come into town but yesterday and I've already heard of you!" he said sweetly. The Beadle smiled broadly.

"Where _is_ your shop? For certainly you've impressed me today and I shall have to come calling." The Beadle inquired. _Yes!_

"Above my pie-shop on Fleet Street, sir Beadle," Mrs. Lovett said, a little too quickly for Sweeney's taste. He gripped her fingers so hard he felt her knuckles pop. To her credit, she remained smiling, but Sweeney sincerely hoped he would not have to kill her for ruining this chance. The Beadle made a note in a little notebook and smiled.

"Oh, I shall be seeing you before the week is out, _and_ I have a client of power who might hear a recommendation from me, if you succeed in impressing me as such again!" he announced grandly. Todd fixed him with another smile, gently took Mrs. Lovett's arm and headed down the square again.

"If you can't stay steady, keep your mouth shut, woman!" he snarled as soon as they were out of earshot of the Beadle.

"Now, Mr. T, I didn't do nothing wrong! He's still charmed with you! Now, where's your coat-rack friend?" she sighed. Erik was indeed nowhere to be seen.

"He'll come back to the shop when he's done with whatever he's doing," Sweeney mumbled. Still, he needed to find the girl too, and he was sure Erik had discovered a way, if he was going to venture out in London in midday. He was also sure that if Erik _did_ find her, he would not share this information with Sweeney. Also, finding the girl kept up with the façade that he would help Erik and he needed to keep Erik in his fold for now.

"Excuse me, madam, but I'm looking for my brother. He's run away with a young woman with blonde hair, who I am not sure is entirely suited to him," he asked the vendor Mrs. Lovett was approaching. He asked the same question several times, before a woman beamed with excitement.

"Oh, yes, sir! I believe I seen him! A little nervous looking boy with blue eyes?" she asked. Todd nodded.

"Oh, it seems the poor dear was just here! He bought a house out by my farm, he did! I only seen the girl once, a tiny little thing huddled in a cloak, so I ain't sure if she's yellow-haired," she replied.

"Yes, the girl is a tad unstable, which is what makes her just the wrong choice at all for my little brother! I must find them and talk sense into him!" Todd said.

"Oh, now, dear, what's wrong with this little girl? It could be she's a perfectly normal, lovely girl!" Mrs. Lovett said slyly.

"Oh no, dear, she cries in the night. Sounds like a ghost she does. People don't like to pass the house now, she wails so fierce. The children are saying she's not alive at all, but the ghost of the boy's lover who died and whom he now lives with!" the vendor told her.

"The girl is prone to awful fits and I fear she will ruin his reputation! She is merely a young actress who took one too many men, if you get my meaning," Todd whispered conspiratorially. The woman pursed her lips in sympathy.

"My son took up with a girl like that. Almost killed him, she did! I hope you are able to put the young man to rights!" the vendor said.

"Well, please try to keep this to ourselves, for I'd hate to risk our reputation further!" Todd whispered, dropping a few coins into the woman's hand. The woman smiled and nodded. Oh, she'd talk eventually, but the money would still her tongue for a time and Todd just had to make sure that his plot was carried out before that.

* * *

Erik returned to Todd's shop, sitting in the blackness in the back, where light would not reach without a candle. It was late afternoon, only a few hours before he could see his Christine… He only hoped her mind wasn't so damaged as to not be able to see him without causing a scene. He also hoped that she was sleeping in a separate room from her husband, although he doubted Raoul would be subjecting himself to her nightmares. He heard Todd and Mrs. Lovett return, but didn't go to greet them. He sat alone, thinking. Sweeney probably also had figured out where she was, one way or another. He _could_ conceivably carry out his revenge on his own, but he couldn't deny that it would be easier to have Sweeney to help him lure Raoul into the open. He couldn't risk making Christine more deranged by actually killing Raoul in front of her and Sweeney created an effective way to get him _here_ to kill him. As darkness fell, he brushed past Sweeney as he left the shop to go find his Christine.


	5. The Insanity of Love and Forgiveness

Christine was in an upstairs bedroom, rocking roughly on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin, her hair in disarray and falling over her face. There were bars on the inside of the window. Less conspicuous than putting them outside and serving the same purpose- keeping her in. She had a small lamp lit, mounted high up on the wall and encased in a steel cage. He had climbed a tree to sit outside her window. He wasn't sure he should speak to her yet. He was debating when she suddenly looked up. Nothing in her eyes registered reality. They were distant, staring blindly, and bereft of any sanity.

"Erik! Oh, I'm so sorry! I should never have left! You were my angel and I left you to rot in hell!" she wailed, reaching her little hands out to him. For a moment, he thought she might throw herself against the bars in her quest for absolution. But she really wasn't seeing him, just a hallucination of him. Her eyes never fixed on him, but something far off in her own head.

"Tell me you forgive me! Tell me you understand!" she cried. Erik heard something deeper in the house and quickly pulled away from the window.

"You died for me and I left you and you died for me…" she chanted. Erik turned his head. This was too much, seeing her like this. _Because of him._ Raoul entered the room and Erik pulled further back into the shadows.

"Goodnight, Christine," Raoul said, speaking softly and carefully, as if to a very frightened child. Christine shook her head.

"Nighttime is _his_ time," she told him. "Erik's time. I remember. He gave me lessons only at night and he only moves at night."

"Erik is dead, Christine," Raoul said, almost harshly.

"Erik is dead. Erik is dead and Christine lives and we left him," Christine chanted.

"Yes, we left him so we could be together without his insane influence! We left him so he could die alone!" Raoul snapped. Christine began to sob inconsolably again.

"He died for me, didn't he?" she whimpered.

"Christine…"

"He will forgive me, won't he? I want him to forgive me! He _died for me_!" she cried out.

"Christine, Erik died for no one. He died alone because of what he did to you, remember?" Raoul said. This was obviously something that had been repeated to her quite a few times. Christine huddled herself tighter on the bed. When Raoul reached out to touch her she shook her head madly and moved away.

"No! I killed him! He died for me, as you said! I don't deserve anything!" she wailed. Raoul shook his head, defeated, and left the room. Erik heard the sound of a lock sliding home and ground his teeth in rage. No wonder she wasn't getting any better, the boy was making it worse! He waited a moment and began to sing. He sang to her, just as he had all those many nights when he taught her to sing like an angel, when her music filled his heart with love.

"Erik?" she whispered, her eyes fixing on him at last. She smiled, but it had an odd edge to it.

"Tell me it's you and not another hallucination!" she cried. Her eyes cleared completely and she was on her knees before the window, her frail hands grasping the bars.

"I am here, Christine," he said.

"Forgive me! You died for me and I beg your forgiveness for leaving when you needed me the most!" she sobbed, her hands reaching through the bars and pressing against the glass, as if trying desperately to touch him and reassure herself this was not only a dream, and that the forgiveness she craved would be awarded her.

"I am real, Christine, and I forgive you. Don't be sad anymore. Come back to the world," he whispered. She dissolved into sobs, but they sounded different this time, somehow.

"There was never anything to forgive, Christine," he told her, pressing his hand against the window beneath hers. She went on crying, but it sounded cleansed. She would get better, but first he had to try to find away to free her. Raoul was the one driving her crazy, not him! Now completely enraged, Erik sprang down from the tree, ready to barge inside and kill the boy where he stood. As he landed, a hand grabbed his shoulder. Erik whirled, lifting the intruder off the ground and slamming him heavily into the tree he'd just descended.

"I wouldn't do that, Erik!" Sweeney gagged. He must have been standing in the shadows of the tree, although how long he'd been there, Erik couldn't say. He threw Sweeney to the ground, irritated that he'd allowed someone to sneak up on him.

"What the hell are you doing? Following me?" Erik hissed. Sweeney held a finger to his lips and grabbed Erik's arm. Erik roughly shook him off.

"You can't kill him now," Sweeney said. "I just came from the road and there are already whispers of a man outside the "haunted" Chagney house. Someone will be coming to investigate soon, once enough people mention it for Scotland Yard to come out here. And no, I didn't follow you. The information flows free enough in London I knew where they were and figured you would be out here. Now come along!" Erik growled low in his throat and followed Sweeney back to Fleet Street.

* * *

Sweeney sat and thought. He was not panicking. What good did panicking ever do anyone? No, he was just thinking. Erik finding Christine early wasn't as much of a problem as it could have been, but Todd still needed to have the judge in his shop to put his plan in motion and needed Erik to remain there and not go running off with his little strumpet. But she was locked in, which was a plus. Sweeney needed the judge or the beadle here _now_!

"He said by the end of the week. Where the hell is he?" Sweeney grumbled. Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes and Erik huffed in his corner. The masked man had taken to sitting in the far-back corner of Sweeney's shop, the one with the most shadows. Thin as he was with his spindly legs angling out from the stool he sat on, he looked like a spider. Sweeney noticed that if the light hit him just right, his eyes would glow like a cat's.

"Who says the week has ended? It's _Tuesday_!" Mrs Lovett chided gently.

"And how on earth is getting the beadle or the judge to come here going to help me rescue Christine?" Erik asked.

"Well, if we get the Beadle, we can get the judge here. If we get the judge here, we can have him arrest her lover and then you'll have her all to yourself." Sweeney replied coolly.

"Sounds like an idiot plan. What makes you think he's going to just lock Raoul up?" Erik snapped. Sweeney gave him a heavy look, and, after a beat, Erik grunted and shrugged.

"First hand, I forgot. Well, then, why can't we go and just send a letter of demand? I used to do it all the time." he said with a mild chuckle. Sweeney shrugged. _Oh, I will_... he thought. Suddenly, the door burst open and Anthony rushed in.

"Oh, Mr. Todd! It took me forever to find you, but then I finally noticed the barber's pole out front!" he gasped. He seemed to have been running for some time.

"What have you been _doing_?" Sweeny asked, clearly annoyed with the boy's behavior.

"Or who?" Erik added from just behind Anthony's shoulder. No one had seen him move. Anthony jumped violently, moving quickly away from the taller man. He ran into Mrs. Lovett, who he had not noticed up to then.

"Ma'am, I'm...." he babbled.

"That's Mrs. Lovett, Anthony," Sweeney said, simply. Anthony gave her a short bow before turning back to Todd.

"I have just found the fairest, most wonderful, sublime woman on the face of this green earth, Mr. Todd! She has the most tyrannical, awful guardian who keeps her shut away in the house!" he cried.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," Erik muttered sarcastically. Anthony glanced at him and gave him a smile.

"Oh, she has the most beautiful blonde hair! And she is a princess locked away in a tower; her eyes are so sad as she stares down from her window, _just like_ Rapunzel, sir," he sighed, oblivious to Erik's jab. Erik and Sweeney exchanged glances, Erik's brow creasing in a dangerous frown.

"Her name wouldn't happen to be Christine, would it?" Erik asked ominously.

"Christine? Oh, no, that's your girl, Mr. Erik! Her name is _Johanna_," Anthony replied, speaking the name like a prayer. Erik visibly relaxed, and Sweeney stiffened. Anthony appeared to remain completely dumb to the odd tension sinking in around him. He dug in his pocket and produced a large key.

"It's proof Johanna loves me, see! She threw down her key to me so that I may rescue her!" he announced, cradling it like a sacred talisman. Once again, Erik and Sweeney exchanged glances. What little color Sweeney had was quickly draining from his face.

"Bring her here after the rescue, lover-boy. We will help you as you helped us." Erik said. Anthony turned to Todd and Mrs. Lovett.

"Yes, bring her here," Mrs. Lovett agreed. Todd stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

"She may come here," he whispered. Anthony seized his hand, shaking it until Todd's entire body moved, but Sweeney barely reacted to it. Anthony then kissed Mrs. Lovett on her cheek and even shook Erik's hand.

"I'll be forever grateful for this!" he exclaimed, practically dancing out the door. The three remaining stood in stunned silence.

"Well, then, that's certainly a twist, now isn't it?" Mrs. Lovett said, breaking their silence, "You'll have your little girl back! Reunited in no time!" Sweeney glared at her.

"For ten minutes, before he runs off with her to the ends of the earth," he grumbled irritably.

"Just have your spidery friend over here _take care_ of him, then, or better yet, take care of the judge so no one will come looking and they'll stay here," Mrs. Lovett suggested. Erik stayed quiet. Yet another young pretty girl being stolen away by her young beau. That sounded _awfully_ familiar. He might actually "take care" of Anthony for Todd, more as practice than a favor. He twirled Sweeney's old razor through his fingers, making it disappear and reappear, old sleight of hand tricks that had served him well over the years. But for now, he wanted to see Christine. He had spent several nights outside her window, but had not spoken to her again. It was a risk, and he was very aware he could be caught and the whole thing would be ruined, but he could not tear himself away. He politely excused himself and headed towards Christine's house. As he left, Mrs. Lovett began to go down to her shop.

"You know, Johanna and your Christine-girl would probably be friends if they met. It could be one big happy family," she twittered. Erik grabbed her arm. She grunted in pain, but didn't otherwise react. He hauled her through the backdoor of her shop.

"In which case, why haven't you told him his wife is alive, Mrs. Lovett?" he asked coldly. She stopped short, her mouth working for a moment, but no words came out.

"Because I don't want him to see her like that!" she stammered finally.

"Don't lie, Mrs. Lovett. I don't like liars," Erik said, very softly. She tried to shove him away, but his grip only tightened on her arm.

"Get off me! It's none of your business, Frenchie!" she snarled.

"Tell me what he's planning and I won't tell him she's alive. He will go on ignorant of her…new life and you shall continue to try to work your way into what little heart he has left," he said.

"Like he ever tells me anything!" she hissed, trying to push him away again. Erik gripped harder, now with both hands. She twisted one arm free and clawed at his face, only succeeding in yanking the mask off. As it came away, Erik dropped her, freezing for a moment, before reaching murderous hands for her throat, ready to squeeze the life out of her. But she only gasped in surprise, no screaming in terror, no fainting.

"Dearie me, you weren't joking, were you? Lordy, how did that happen?" she asked. It sounded as if she were merely asking how Erik had fallen and bumped his head. He was so surprised he forgot about his intentions to kill her.

"What? Haven't you seen some of the ugly gits around London? You're not even half bad by them!" she chided. Erik was still in shock.

"I daresay, that _is_ quite a shocker, though. I can see why you're so creepy," she added.

"I don't frighten you?" Erik asked stupidly.

"Oh, you scare the _hell_ out of me alright, but it's because you're barking mad and I keep thinking you're going to slaughter us all in our sleep," she replied. Erik shook his head.

"I'm not going to slaughter anyone. I need to know if he may place Christine in danger to further his own plans. You love him and want to make him safe. I want to make sure my girl is safe," he lied. _Oh, I need to know that too, but I _really_ need to know if I'm the scapegoat here_, he thought. The mention of her love for Todd softened her a bit and Mrs. Lovett shrugged.

"I don't know. I will tell you if I find out if you keep your mouth shut," she said, handing him his mask. Erik replaced it on his face and swept out of the shop. As he left, Mrs. Lovett pondered the bruises on her arms and how close he had come to strangling her. He had meant to kill her right there, but her lack of fear had saved her. It _had_ been a frightening sight - there was no nose, his eyes were small and yellow like a cat's and were set so far back in his head as to look like a skull. But she had not faltered. She was a strong woman in hard times, for frightened women in hard times rarely lived to see the year out. Mrs. Nellie Lovett was only afraid of one thing in those hard times- losing the madman sulking away upstairs…


End file.
